Floating Away
by Pastai Twll
Summary: A little alternate ending to Ruskie Business. Instead of being picked up by Trina, Logan heads to the beach and does some contemplating.


The sky wasn't black. It was never black. Right now, it sat somewhere between a sombre dark blue and the purple of a fresh bruise. Orion hung high, lording it over the rest of the sky the way only he could. His sword pointed out toward the sea which melded almost seamlessly with the sky at the dark horizon. The rush and crash of waves are the only thing to suggest that he isn't standing at the edge of the world.

The sand is cold on his bare feet. A slight breeze raises a chill in his legs too. What a great night for the pantsless, he thinks wryly. He's staring blankly at the sea, confounded by the paradox of calm and dangerous. He thinks that's what he's always loved about it, the mix of the gentle rocking like a cradle juxtaposed against an unknown depth waiting to make itself home to those it catches unaware.

Every now and then the white crest of a wave catches his eye, illuminated by the stars and sliver of moon. A part of him hopes for those waves to carry him away in their loving arms but they always run out of energy before they reach him, retreating back to meet the sky. He wonders how something so profoundly beautiful can cause so much pain.

The constant roar of the ocean begins to grate on him. It used to be the most peaceful sound in the world and now he just wants it to stop. He wants it all to stop.

His brow furrows and his face scrunches up in pain. He lobs the bottle in his hand towards the waves, but loses sight of it long before it hits. "Why did you do it? Why did you have to leave me alone with him?" He shouts angrily, his voice coming out hoarse.

The smell of salt on the air is joined by the taste in his mouth. It's the second time he's cried today. Honestly, he wasn't sure he was still capable.

Maybe the wind changes or maybe his senses finally catch up with him, but he's distinctly aware he's no longer alone. He spins and he's not at all surprised that it's her. He's not certain if he wants her to get the hell out or to hold him while he breaks down again.

She makes the decision for him as she slowly approaches. He wipes his tears away roughly with a long white sleeve. She stops several feet away from him but says nothing. "I hate her, you know?" She just watches him, caution in her eyes. "I fucking hate her." His voice breaks and he's scrubbing at his face again.

She takes another step toward him and he's disgusted by the pity in her eyes. "You shouldn't be out here."

His eyes turn violent and she takes a step back. "So that's why you're here? Veronica Mars, saviour of the downtrodden has deemed me worthy of her pity? Go home, Veronica." He spits out the last sentence.

He's truly expecting her to walk away until her eyes turn to steel. "I'm not leaving you here like this. I'm not leaving without you."

And this makes him infinitely angrier. He explodes, "Have I not made it clear to you that I don't need you anymore? How many flat tires does it take to puncture that thick skull of yours? You died when Lilly died." She flinches but still makes no move to leave. "And now she's gone too." His voice is quieter now, little more than a whisper. "Is this some kind of cosmic payback?" He gets a frenzied look in his eye and he grabs her arm. "Do I deserve this?" He looks so lost and broken in that moment, yet all she can do is shake her head. He closes up again, he's rapidly cycling through so many emotions that he's starting to have trouble feeling anything. It's about time the alcohol kicked in.

She must notice his eyes closing off because she gently removes his hand from where it's gripping her arm and pulls him in to a tight hug. His arms circle her loosely and he stares blankly at a spot in the sand somewhere over her head. He supposes this would be comforting if he wasn't shattering in to a million pieces.

It takes him a while to realise she's whispering something to him. All he manages to catch is "It'll get better. It has to." He guesses that's true, he's not certain there's anywhere further to fall from here. She pulls back and tries to look in his eyes but he's pretty far gone. She wraps her hand around his wrist and gently leads him up and off the beach. He doesn't bother resisting. What's the use?

She opens the passenger door and he gets in without looking at her. As they pull away from the beach his head falls against the window. He can still hear the roar of the ocean in his ears and, while it doesn't hold the comfort it once did, he hopes it never leaves. Not again.


End file.
